Closer To Sin (3 page)

‘Mademoiselles,’ he greeted. ‘I believe you’re expecting me?’ Looking to the barmaid, the man winked and gestured for a mug of ale.

Bemused, Liliane watch the woman transform from sullen wench to blushing flirt in less time than it took to flick her skirt. Good grief, there was obviously an art to getting prompt service in this tavern.

‘I assume you’re Monsieur St Claire?’ queried Solange.

He nodded in response. ‘And you’re Solange Beaumont?’ Without looking, he indicated towards Liliane. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone else. Who is your companion?’

‘This is my cousin Liliane Beaumont.’ Solange paused, as a single raised eyebrow conveyed his displeasure. Recovering, she cleared her throat. ‘I’ve been unwell this winter and it would be best if Liliane were to accompany you in my stead. She—’

With a gesture of his hand, he interrupted her. The barmaid returned and placed a mug of ale before him, stooping low to exhibit her generously endowed bosom. Liliane leaned against the wall and watched him take his time to admire the girl’s display with a smile of appreciation before he slid a coin across the table in payment for the beverage.

Liliane cast a glance around the taproom. So it wasn’t just her; he’d attracted the attention of every woman in the room. Across the tavern two other barmaids were huddled together giggling and darting appreciative glances towards him. With a smile like that, he probably commanded this sort of attention everywhere he went. She straightened her posture and edged further away from him. How lowering to think he’d probably dismissed her as just another simpering miss. She watched the serving girl accept her dismissal with good grace and saunter back to the bar.
Oh for goodness sake, the man would make a crone blush.

Monsieur St Clair took a long draught of his ale and returned his attention to Solange. ‘Continue please. I believe you were explaining to me how this young woman is suitably qualified to accompany me on what is likely to be a highly dangerous mission.’

This conversation was not going as Solange had predicted. Liliane pinched her lips together. ‘Monsieur,’ she intervened. ‘Firstly, my age is not your concern. But suffice to say, I’m no young miss fresh from the school room. Secondly, I’m more than aware there’s an element of danger involved in this mission—and I accept that risk. My cousin has taught me well and I intend to be nothing but an asset to you.’

Liliane’s heart pounded against her breast, but she wasn’t about to be dismissed so easily. She sat back and waited for him to acknowledge her.

Instead, he addressed his answer to Solange. ‘I believe, Mademoiselle Beaumont, I’ll decide who is and who isn’t an asset to me. I dislike having my plans dictated to me.’ He paused and took a sip of his ale. ‘Now,
mon fleur
,’ he turned to Liliane, ‘what makes you so certain you can assist me?’

Liliane twisted around to face him and found herself pinned under the scrutiny of indecipherable brown eyes. A heated flush spread slowly across her chest and crept up her neck as his gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth. She clenched her hands together and met him eye to eye. There was no way she was going to let him see the web of uncertainty threatening to consume her. If she was going to pull off this charade, she needed to meet him on equal terms. And that didn’t include allowing him to seduce her to within an inch of her senses. She held her breath and resisted the urge to lick her lips until, with a twitch of his mouth, he looked back up and met her gaze again.

She squared her shoulders. It was a pity his temperament wasn’t as pleasing as his looks. ‘
Monsieur
, I’m not
your flower
, my name is Liliane. Regardless, you need not have any fears about my suitability.’ Lifting her hand she ticked off her accomplishments. ‘I have a complete understanding of the role expected of me. Also,’ she lowered her voice to ensure she wouldn’t be heard beyond their table, ‘I’m in possession of information that will guarantee us access to a highly placed official that, to date, has been beyond your reach. And I’m fluent in English. You do understand English, Monsieur?’

‘Yes, although I would caution you not to advertise that fact
mon fleur
. We don’t wish to draw any undue attention to ourselves.’

‘I’m not so naive, sir.’

‘No? Yet you wish to endanger yourself and travel through a war-torn country with a gentleman with whom you are unacquainted. Are you not concerned for your virtue,
Mademoiselle
?’

He was challenging her morals? The cheek of the man. She had come of age learning to deflect the sly innuendo and improper advances of the tom cats and opportunists who prowled the ballrooms of Mayfair. He would need to try harder than that if he wanted to intimidate her. She met his glare and smiled. ‘I think you’ll find my virtue beyond reproach. Perhaps you’re more concerned with your own lack of gentlemanly qualities?’ she challenged.

‘Sweetheart,’ he drawled, ‘you have a sharp tongue.’ Leaning closer he lowered his voice. ‘And let me assure you, you will find no fault with—’

Solange interjected with a cough. ‘Monsieur St Clair, may I speak with you privately for a moment?’

Liliane registered the tone in Solange’s voice but kept her attention steadily trained on the man beside her, her gaze locked with his whiskey brown eyes. She wasn’t going to back down to him. He wasn’t the one who’d thrown society’s strictures to the wind by being here, and he wasn’t the one who could redeem her family’s honour. She bit the inside of her lip. But he was the one who could put an end to her ambitions if he refused to take her. She lifted her chin and dared him to challenge her further as a peel of raucous laughter burst from the corner of the room and washed over them.

He raised an eyebrow in response to her challenge and shrugged insolently. Solange coughed again, breaking the tension and forcing her to turn back to her cousin.

Liliane smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s okay, Solange. I’m sure Monsieur St Clair is simply concerned for my safety.’

‘Your safety, be damned,’ he growled. ‘This is highly irregular, and one of us needs to remember that we are
not
playing games here. Need I remind you both that there are protocols in place for good reason.’

Solange opened her mouth to protest, but before she could begin, he silenced her with a piercing glare. ‘Mademoiselle Beaumont, I dislike being manipulated. I don’t know what your intent is, but it’s clear that your cousin, while beautiful and quick witted, is in no way prepared to undertake this kind of job. Just what are you hoping to achieve from trading places?’

‘Monsieur St Clair, I implore you not to be so impertinent,’ reprimanded Solange. She cast a quick look at Liliane. ‘I think it’s time to indoctrinate Liliane into the business. Napoleon has increased his activity along the coast,’ she leaned closer, ‘and there’s also talk of an invasion by Austria. I can’t do this alone anymore. But,’ she sought to placate him, ‘be assured, my cousin is more than capable of taking my place.’

Liliane held still as she observed the battle of wills between Solange and Monsieur St Clair. This meeting had not gone the way she’d expected. Somehow she’d expected him to simply fall in with their plans and be grateful for their assistance. She replayed his words through her head; he thought she was beautiful and quick witted. She couldn’t take any credit for her beauty, but at least he didn’t think her a simpleton. And she would need every ounce of her wits in the coming week.

The enormity of what she was attempting to undertake weighted itself deep in her gut. The responsibility was daunting, but if she succeeded, she could return to England satisfied she’d done all in her power to complete her grandfather’s work. And she will have had a small role to play in alleviating the risk of Napoleon invading England.

Apparently Solange sensed Monsieur St Clair was not going to comment further and she started to stand. ‘Do I take it you’ll not be requiring our services in this instance?’

Monsieur St Clair cursed under his breath. Liliane wasn’t sure exactly what he’d said, but she’d lay money on him having just bedamned them to the devil and back. He clasped his fingers under his chin and looked down at the table in contemplation for several moments before raking a hand back through his hair. His features softened and he looked back to Solange.

‘Sit down, Mademoiselle Beaumont,’ he conceded. ‘You know full well the urgency I face in conveying the information I carry to the appropriate officials. If I wasn’t dependent on your contacts and the entrée they can provide me to government circles, I would never let you get away with this behaviour. As it is, my superiors will be apprised of this anomaly.’

Solange didn’t sit down, but nodded coolly.

Monsieur St Clair picked up his ale and drained the glass. The barmaid started towards him, but he waved her away with a quick shake of his head. Turning to Liliane he studied her for several moments. ‘I plan to leave before dawn tomorrow. Do you think you’ll be ready by then?’

Good Lord, the man was imperious.

Liliane looked questioningly to Solange who was now standing beside the table. ‘She’ll be ready, Monsieur. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have some matters to attend to.’

He stood to allow Liliane to slide across the bench and join her cousin. ‘Very good, I’ll meet you at your cottage before sunrise. Have a small valise packed, and be prepared to spend long hours on the road.’ With an abrupt nod he bid them farewell.

***

Liliane walked into the parlour at the front of Solange’s cottage and tossed her cloak and gloves across the back of a chair before dropping down onto the chintz-covered settee. She let her gaze roam around the room—the parlour was spotless and comfortable, even though it was sparsely furnished. Her eyes rested on the faded square above the fireplace where a painting must have once hung. There were similar empty spaces in the dining room and the bedrooms. Surely Solange hadn’t sold them just to get by? After all, there was a well-tended vegetable garden and a chicken coop outside the back door. Liliane frowned. She and Solange had certainly had very different upbringings, but what on earth had compelled Solange to sell the few reminders she had of the life she once lived?

A noise behind her alerted her to the fact that Solange had entered the room. Liliane stiffened her posture and resisted the urge to fidget under the weight of her cousin’s grey eyes.

Solange handed Liliane a cup of tea and lowered herself on to the settee next to Liliane. ‘So, do you think you can manage this?’

Liliane sighed. Without a doubt, Monsieur St Clair was someone who was used to getting his own way, and he certainly hadn’t liked the way she’d challenged him. ‘Do you think it’s wise for us to persist with this course?’

Solange looked at her for several moments, distractedly running her hands over the red leather cover of the book she held. ‘I can’t tell you how much having you here means to me, Liliane. Ever since I found Grandpère’s journal, I have been in a quandary over what to do.’

Liliane leaned forward and rested her hand upon Solange’s. ‘You did the right thing writing to me.’ Even if her correspondence after all of these years had been a surprise. ‘I’m just not so sure that involving Monsieur St Clair is the right choice.’

Solange turned the red leather book over in her hands several times. ‘Actually, I think he is perfect for our cause. I’ve been reading more of Grandpère’s diary.’ She flipped the book open to a page towards the back of the book. ‘Listen to this.

‘We handed Yvette into the care of Martinbury today. God willing, she will be safer in England under Giles’s guardianship. I pray it will not be too much longer before Phillipe and Aimee can join them—’’

Liliane lifted her hand to her mouth, but it wasn’t enough to stifle the gasp that erupted from her lips. ‘I never knew—’ She swallowed down the lump that had lodged itself in her throat.

She’d never met Uncle Phillipe or Aunt Aimee, but she couldn’t imagine not having Yvette in her life. They were as close as sisters, and most definitely best friends. Even now, Yvette was at home in Somerset, weaving an alibi to prevent Liliane’s absence from being discovered. But how had Uncle Nate been involved in smuggling Yvette out of France?

Solange looked at Liliane quizzically. ‘Your uncle was well known among those of us who plotted against the Jacobins. I had assumed you knew.’

Liliane shook her head. ‘It’s never been spoken of. Not even by Yvette.’ She drew a shuddering breath and cleared her throat. ‘I had no idea there were so many family secrets.’

Reaching for the diary, she flicked through the book until she stopped two pages from the end. ‘The last thing our Grandpère wrote was on September 25, 1793.

‘The Jacobins have been making many inquiries lately and we cannot risk the identities of our members being discovered. Martinbury has arranged passage for Phillipe and Aimee to join Giles in England. Pierre refuses to go, and so of course my daughter must remain with him—at least he conceded to allow Solange to be removed to the country.’
’

Liliane paused as a shiver raced across her skin. It was hard not to feel guilty. While she and Yvette had been safe, Solange had been left behind to escape the executioner. Unable to trust her voice, she read quietly to herself.

‘My greatest fear has been realised and tyranny reigns, it is no longer tenable to continue. We shall disband the movement for now, the fight to be resumed at a time least suspected. Should I fail, I bequeath my pocket watch, and all it represents, to my good friend Henri Lyon—’

Liliane closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill. ‘I confess that I don’t understand the significance of the watch, particularly as Papa was in possession of it the whole time. Still, why can’t I simply travel to Boulogne-Sur-Mer and give it to Monsieur Lyon myself?’ She lifted her teacup to her mouth and sipped slowly, holding tight to the comfort offered by the warmth of the cup. ‘More so, where does Monsieur St Clair fit into all of this?’

Solange retrieved the diary from Liliane’s hands and gazed at the covers for several long moments before finally looking up at Liliane. ‘I am concerned the Jacobins are once again amassing, and while Monsieur St Clair is purportedly working for the British, I’m interested to find out where his true loyalties lay.’